


heritage

by wtfmulder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 13:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10742901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfmulder/pseuds/wtfmulder
Summary: Climbing the family tree.





	heritage

It’s the only time in his life he allows himself to think it: this is my father. Good ol’ dad, and I’m going to spray his brains all over the wall.

  
I’m going to kill him. I’m going to paint myself with his blood. Then I’ll probably seize to death right here on his hardwood floor, but I’m going to do it. I’m going to fucking kill him.

  
What’s your name? I gotta stop fucking around. Straighten your arm. Get closer. What’s your name? Who’s been taking care of you? What’s your goddamned name?

  
He thinks: time to kill the man who killed the world. Then he pushes himself. And he pushes himself. Just a little closer. The barrel touches rice paper skin, tears it a little. Father makes a laughing noise that puffs right out of his smoke hole and Mulder almost pulls the trigger right then.

  
In a roundabout way he can make this his own fault. Do it, because you didn’t do it before and look where it’s gotten you. Look what it’s gotten her. Closer. Cancer Man doesn’t flinch, not even when the gun scrapes loopy patterns into his temple.

  
Mulder’s mouth is fuzzy, his tongue is dry; the world will fall away, first in his head when he takes his last breath, then for real. This is my father. The thought makes this easier, it’s just everything else that makes it so hard.

  
For a man whose traded his life to evade death, daddy dearest rests awful easy under the gun. He’s even smiling. Something thick and biotic grows in Mulder, cutting through mucous and blood and bone and bullshit genetic material. He drags the gun down. Cancer Man hums surprisedly when the cool metal touches his lips.

  
Father. Dad. Playing hardball with dad. Teach me how to shave, dad. How to love a woman right. I’m gonna do it. I’m going to fucking kill you. A rustle in the corner means nothing to him. It doesn’t register. His finger brushes the trigger. The voice that calls out doesn’t catch him off guard. This is happening… closer…

  
“Uh, Mr. Spender?” Squeaky, unsure. Nasally as hell. Mulder pays no mind. He’s almost there. Then, more frantic: “Mr. Spender? Mr. Spender!”

  
Cancer Man pulls away from the caress of the certain death with a calm familiarity, grinning with no teeth and soft eyes that alert Mulder to how much worse a situation can get when the sky is literally falling around you.

  
“Oh, William, my boy,” he says, staring directly at Mulder. The gun falls to the floor. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”


End file.
